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Metaphor Quotes

Browse 2099 quotes about Metaphor.

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Metaphor Quotes

“Doubt as sin. — Christianity has done its utmost to close the circle and declared even doubt to be sin. One is supposed to be cast into belief without reason, by a miracle, and from then on to swim in it as in the brightest and least ambiguous of elements: even a glance towards land, even the thought that one perhaps exists for something else as well as swimming, even the slightest impulse of our amphibious nature — is sin! And notice that all this means that the foundation of belief and all reflection on its origin is likewise excluded as sinful. What is wanted are blindness and intoxication and an eternal song over the waves in which reason has drowned.”

ThinkingReasonPhilosophyPurposeBeliefNatureSinExistenceDoubtAtheismHuman NatureThoughtsReflectionEternityMiracleBlindMetaphorMythMeaningMeaning Of LifePurpose Of LifeResurrectionBlindnessReligious FaithCritical ThinkingChristian FaithBlind FaithIntoxicationOriginWasted LifeSinfulResurrection Of JesusCritical ThoughtChristian MiracleDeath Of ReasonDoubt Is SinFoundation Of Belief
Book:Daybreak: Thoughts on the Prejudices of Morality
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“It's a commonly expressed and rather nice, romantic notion that we are all "sisters" and "brothers." Let's be real. Fact is, we might be better served to accept that we are all siblings. Siblings fight, pull each other's hair, steal stuff, and accuse each other indiscriminately. But siblings also know the undeniable fact that they are the same blood, share the same origins, and are family. Even when they hate each other. And that tends to put all things in perspective.”

FamilyBrotherMetaphorBrotherhoodSistersSisterSiblingsBrothersFraternity
Book:The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
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“Father has a strengthening character like the sun and mother has a soothing temper like the moon.”

InspirationalWritingChildrenPhilosophyCharacterWisdomMotivationalMotherQuotesFatherFamilyKnowledgeSunGrowing UpChildhoodSonMomDadMoonSpeechRespectDaughterParentingMetaphorWittyWitParentsObedienceMovieStoryParenthoodTemperChildAdulthoodRhetoricDaddyCreative WritingSimileSlogansAmit KalantriAmit Kalantri QuotesPublic SpeakingProverbsBabiesSocial NetworkingBloggingCharactersSoothingAmit Kalantri WriterAdageStrengtheningCaring For OthersNovel WritingBook WritingEssayScriptAdvertisementBlogMovie DialogueScript WritingCatchphrasesAlliterationsTag LinesScriptwritingCatch LinesSpeechwritingMummyPunchline
Book:Wealth of Words
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“I wonder which is preferable, to walk around all your life swollen up with your own secrets until you burst from the pressure of them, or to have them sucked out of you, every paragraph, every sentence, every word of them, so at the end you're depleted of all that was once as precious to you as hoarded gold, as close to you as your skin - everything that was of the deepest importance to you, everything that made you cringe and wish to conceal, everything that belonged to you alone - and must spend the rest of your days like an empty sack flapping in the wind, an empty sack branded with a bright fluorescent label so that everyone will know what sort of secrets used to be inside you?”

MetaphorSecretsSimileMargaret AtwoodThe Blind Assassin
Book:The Blind Assassin
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“At one extreme...the hours seemed to aggregate and sell like a wave, swallowing huge chunks of her day. At the other extreme when her attention was disengaged and fractured she experienced time at its most granular wherein moments hung around like particles diffused and suspended and standing in water. There used to be a middle way, too, when her attention was focussed but vast and time felt like a limpid pool ringed by sunlit ferns.”

TimeNatureMetaphorSimile
Book:A Tale for the Time Being
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“Andy: ugh I’ve never felt so old and slimy. Sinter: You’re 25. That isn’t old to a 19 year old Andy: Old. And slimy. Slimy like a slug. Like seaweed. Sinter: Are you done with your metaphors Andy: I think these are similes Though he’d been a computer science major, he’d also been, like me, an English minor. It made him remarkably hot at moments such as this. Sinter: Right, you’re right Andy: And no. There are many slimy things and I’m like them all. Slimy like mayo Sinter: Gross Andy: Exactly, I am gross Sinter: Ha no, mayo is gross Andy: Slimy like a dog’s tongue. Sinter: Seriously stop.”

MetaphorSimileMetaphorsText MessagingSimilesText MessagesSlimy Things
Book:All the Better Part of Me
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“But I was still anxious. Trevor Trevor Trevor. I might have felt better if he were dead, I thought, since behind every memory of him was the possibility of reconciling, and thus more heartbreak and indignity. I felt weak. My nerves were frayed and fragile, like tattered silk. Sleep had not yet solved my crankiness, my impatience, my memory. It seemed like everything was now somehow linked to getting back what I'd lost. I could picture my selfhood, my past, my psyche like a dump truck filled with trash. Sleep was the hydraulic piston that lifted the bed of the truck up, ready to dump everything out somewhere, but Trevor was stuck in the tailgate, blocking the flow of garbage. I was afraid things would be like that forever.”

MemoriesMetaphorSimileForgettingThe PastOttessa MoshfeghMy Year Of Rest And RelaxationToxic Relationship
Book:My Year of Rest and Relaxation
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“The symmetry of it all, or was it the emptied, seemingly ransacked neatness of his room, tied a knot in my throat. It reminded me less of a hotel room when you wait for the porter to help you take your things downstairs after a glorious stay that was ending too soon, than of a hospital room after all your belongings have been packed away, while the next patient, who hasn't been admitted yet, still waits in the emergency room exactly as you waited there yourself a week earlier. This was a test run for our final separation. Like looking at someone on a respirator before it's finally turned off days later.”

SadEmptyMetaphorAbsenceSeparationSimileCall Me By Your NameAndre Aciman
Book:Call Me by Your Name
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“It was long past midnight. Laura's music played on. It was composed in the language of stars, tinkling in a crystal pool suspended from constellations. She used chimes now and then, the chimes that characterized every patio in Arizona, the piano, the trees combed by wind. A prelude to a storm. It was like discovering the secret room in a dream of your house that holds all the magic. It was music I wished I lived inside. Around us, cactus, hills filled with jumping cholla, the heat of August like another animal heaving over us.”

BeautifulMusicMetaphorDescriptionSimileDescriptiveSonoraHannah Lillith Assadi
Book:Sonora
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“There was a graduate student in my cohort, this guy I dated, who told me he came to realize that doing physics is like this: there's a concrete wall twenty feet thick, and you're on one side, and on the other side is everything worth knowing. And all you have is a spoon. So you just have to take a spoon and start scraping at the wall: no other way. He works in a bookstore now. But I think of it this way. There is a jigsaw puzzle. It's infinitely large, with no edges or corners to help you out. We have to put it together: it's our duty. We will never finish, but we have to find our satisfactions where we can: when we place two pieces together that suggest we may have found the place where the sky touches the sea, or when we discover a piece that is beautiful in and of itself, that has an unusual color or a glimpse of an unexpected pattern. And the pieces that do not join together also tell you something. If there are very few eureka moments, then at least there are a thousand little failures, that point the way toward a hundred little joys.”

ScienceWorkMetaphorPhysicsSimileNever EndingDexter PalmerVersion ControlRewarding
Book:Version Control
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“In my art history degree course, we did a module on palimpsests—medieval sheets of parchment so costly that, once the text was no longer needed, the sheets were simply scraped clean and reused, leaving the old writing faintly visible through the new. Later, Renaissance artists used the word pentimenti, repentances, to describe mistakes or alterations that were covered with new paint, only to be revealed years or even centuries later as the paint thinned with time, leaving both the original and the revision on view. Sometimes I have a sense that this house—our relationship in it, with it, with each other—is like a palimpsest or pentimento, that however much we try to overpaint Emma Matthews, she keeps tiptoeing back: a faint image, an enigmatic smile, stealing its way into the corner of the frame.”

ArtHouseMetaphorSettingSimileCreepyArt HistoryJ P DelaneyReferencesThe Girl BeforeEmma Matthews
Book:The Girl Before
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“The study of Scripture I find to be quite like mastering an instrument. No one is so good that they cannot get any better; no one knows so much that they can know no more. A professional can spot an amateur or a lack of practice or experience a mile away. His technicality, his spiritual ear is razor-sharp. He is familiar with the common mistakes, the counter-arguments; and insofar as this, he can clearly distinguish the difference between honest critics of the Faith and mere fools who criticize that which they know nothing.”

MindPhilosophyWisdomTruthReligionLanguageMusicKnowledgePracticeLearningTeacherAtheismDevelopmentJudgmentBibleCriticismLiesLogicMetaphorImprovementFoolishScriptureTheologyMaturityProphetDeceitApplicationPreacherFalsehoodSimileDiscernmentAgnosticismProfessionalTheismApologeticsImmaturityDialectStudyingArgumentationInstrumentFallaciesAmateurFalse ProphetLogical FallaciesFigurativeLingoMasteringCounter ArgumentFalse TeachingMastering The MindMastering OneselfAntitheisticFalse Preaching
Book:Healology
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“I saw a shiny film, across her eyes - the beginning of tears. Looking into her eyes, I could see a fire inside them. It was a hearth fire you could depend on, you could draw up to and get warm by if you were cold, or cook something on that would feed the emptiness in you. I felt like we were all adrift in the world, and all we had was the wet fire in August's eyes. But it was enough.”

SoulGriefEmotionMetaphorConnection With PeopleDescriptive WritingWarmth Of Love
Book:The Secret Life of Bees
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“This dress was a tube of finely pleated silk, each pleat as fine as a harp string... driven by an urge she didnt question, she quickly shed her clothes and slipped the dress over her head. Knotting the belt around her waist, she went to the mirror. Her reflection stunned her. The natural elasticity of the pleats defined her curves molding like rows of vines to the contours of the land... Shauna stared at her face before her, growing leaner and far more beautiful. Unable to blink or move, she felt an unbearable sadness swinging through her. Tears began to course down her cheeks. Where did this grief come from? ... It came from a cause more terrible and one without remedy. The woman in the mirror flared her airs back at her in desperate appeal.”

GriefEmotionMetaphorDress
Book:A Gown of Thorns
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“The creative act is a letting down of the net of human imagination into the ocean of chaos on which we are suspended, and the attempt to bring out of it ideas. It is the night sea journey, the lone fisherman on a tropical sea with his nets, and you let these nets down - sometimes, something tears through them that leaves them in shreds and you just row for shore, and put your head under your bed and pray. At other times what slips through are the minutiae, the minnows of this ichthyological metaphor of idea chasing. But, sometimes, you can actually bring home something that is food, food for the human community that we can sustain ourselves on and go forward.”

CommunityImaginationCreativeJourneyOceanHumanChaosMetaphorFishermanNet
Author:Terence McKenna
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“I gave her as much as I had, but it's like the difference between a movie and a book: A book lets you choose how much of the blood you want to see. A book gives you the permission to see the story as you want, as your mind directs. You interpret. Your Alexander Portnoy doesn't look like mine because we all have our unique view. When you finish a movie you leave the theater with your friend and talk about the movie right away. When you finish a book you think. Love grew up on movies and I have just read her a book. I give her time to digest.”

LiteratureImaginationBooksMetaphorComparisonMoviesMetaCaroline KepnesHidden Bodies
Book:Hidden Bodies
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“— Водна лилия — промълви Колин. — Откъде ли я е прихванала?… — Водна лилия ли има? — попита недоверчиво Никола. — Да, в десния бял дроб — отвърна Колин. — Отначало професорът смяташе, че е някакво животно. А ето какво излезе. Видяхме я на екрана. Вече е доста голяма, но сигурно ще успеем да се преборим. — Не можете да си представите какво ми е — изхлипа Клое. — Толкова ме боли, когато тя мърда!”

ImaginationMetaphor
Author:Boris Vian
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